Ethereality
by handoverthebiscuit
Summary: In a land of magic and demons, few hold any power at all. There is a war to be fought, and the burden lies on those who do. AU.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

_Flames danced menacingly, burning a searing blue. The glow it cast only highlighted the features of the creature before her. Dilated pupils watched her every move with uncanny resemblance to the manners of a hawk. Barely-visible veins on the translucent papery wings cast beautiful shadows on the waxed floor, yet the moment was anything but. It crouched on its claw-like feet, the innumerous gleaming teeth set on a wide jaw were tinted an unearthly shade of blue like the fire around them. _

_'W-what do you want?' her voice wavered uncertainly. 'Money? I can give you money,' she fumbled for her purse._

_'No,' it spoke; its voice grated against her ears like nails on a chalkboard. 'What use do I have for your money? You have power.'_

_She gripped the carpet under her with trembling fingers, and the creature - demon - continued to speak. 'Magic is rare, human. Let's strike a deal. Lend me your power, and i'll make you so much more. Give me your freedom, and I'll teach you to use your magic.'_

_'The world will be our playground,' it prowled stealthily, eyes flashing like a vulture. _

_'Your playground,' she found her voice again, surprisingly steady. 'I know what happens when you demons strike deals. I'm not handing my power over to any Circle.'_

_'Loyal to the Government, aren't you? Why could that be?' The large eyes scanned the living room, finally settling on a small picture frame. 'A Government official for a husband, hmm?'_

_'Enough,' the voice was smooth like flowing water. 'It is evident that she has nothing for Circle.' The voice belonged to a tall individual, leaning against the weakened and charred doorframe. Gloved hands tucked a stray strand of hair away amidst his otherwise immaculate image, dark eyes glowing eerily with magic. One glance told her he was a magician - a powerful one. _

_'Kill her, demon.'_

_She held her breath. _

_'And the children upstairs.'_

_'No!'_

_'Too late,' the demon growled menacingly, and she winced against its voice. 'We gave you a choice.'_

_The two-storey house crumbled, consumed by the hungry flames, collapsing like many others before it. _

_'Let's see if we'll have any luck next door,' the magician continued calmly as if he were commenting on the weather._

_'What were looking for again?' _

_'The Amulet of Nara,' the man replied brusquely. 'If you destroy it, careless demon, I'm sure Aizen-sama will destroy you too.'_

* * *

end

* * *

AN: and that was the prelude, mainly to set the scene. Do review, I'll be using that to gauge receptivity to this concept. Thank you.  
(I assure you, the characters in this chapter are inconsequential, the bleach characters will come in chapter one.


	2. One

_Not for profits. Not mine._

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo watched uninterestedly as heavy clouds slowly filled the sky, tuning out the teacher's dull droning with the ease of an expert. It was _Tuesday_, and school was boring him out of his skull.

But he supposed life could always be worse than being an inconspicuous member of a small school.

Something hard - presumably a piece of chalk - hit him squarely on the forehead. 'Kurosaki,' Yagi sensei's sharp voice echoed crisply around the silent classroom. 'What, exactly, do you see out the window that the rest of us do not?'

Answering quite honestly and bluntly, he replied, 'I was actually visualising my copy of Wuthering Heights getting decimated by a demon out there.' Deep brown eyes rose defiantly against the teacher's.

Yagi's eyebrows knit sternly together. 'You know as well as I do that the Government has placed runes and enchantments around the School. The School is a safehaven in times of emergency. There are no demons, so stop daydreaming and turn to page ninety-eight.'

Demons and magicians were taboo subjects, it was almost as if mentioning them would summon them, or even better - not mentioning them would cease their existence.

'And you know as well as the rest of us do, sensei, that the magicians are getting more and more powerful with every passing day. With the threat of an uprising looming over our heads, I wouldn't rule it out as impossible. But if you say so, page what?'

One particular vein on Yagi's forehead was twitching, Ichigo couldn't help but notice. 'Ninety-eight. We will _not _discuss the magicians in my class.'

Magic was powerful. One would be a fool not to recognise the fact; entire cities had been razed into nothingness overnight, and the magicians were slowly but surely gaining control over Edo. The Hunters were not powerless either, though, but few in number. It took magic to fight magic, and those born with magic were mostly born and raised in a Magicians' Circle - raised to overthrow Edo.

The Hunters, then, had a small pool of human resource to draw from - magic wielders born from commonfolk. Nobody could blame the Government for setting up an agency that pulled such children out of School for enrolment in the Academy when enemy forces were growing at such an alarming rate. If the magicians were born and bred fighters, then the Hunters would have to be.

_'We live in times of danger.'_

___'Never be found alone after dark.'_

_'It is an honour to fight for Edo.'_

_'Nowhere is safe.'_

They had all grown up listening to the same old advice, the same old rules, living out the same old adage. Every year, predictably in mid-February, Government officials would screen students for a single trace of magic. They would glorify the life of a Hunter, and then they would perform the routine check on each and every rune around the School.

Ichigo knew exactly what it meant to be a Hunter, and the life of one was not pretty. His mother was kind, gentle, yet caught up in the century-old war, her life taken by the magicians before his very own eyes. He remembered every grisly detail - the tall, slender stature of the man, his languid gait, the way the magician's dark black hair clumped in the rain, the unnerving smirk revealing perfectly white teeth that shone in the storm. He recalled his mother standing tall before him, her bright hair whipped around by the wind and eyes glowing with magic. He remembered the way her talisman shattered, and the bolt of pure white energy that shot through her moments after. He could identify the manic laugh of the magician, and he would never forget how Kurosaki Masaki, in her last moments, crouched over her nine-year-old firstborn, crying in relief when she saw the perfectly clear talisman strung around his neck, reflecting the colours of the rainbow.

Almost instinctively, Ichigo's hand clasped around the shimmering pendant that hung over his chest, running the pad of his thumb over its untarnished surface. At birth, every child of Edo received a talisman. It was a clear, polished glass bead, washed in holy water and blessed by a priest. Threaded on a string of silver or gold, the talisman was strung around one's neck. It guarded its wearer from curses and spells, turning a shade darker every time it did its work, until finally, when the glass turned pitch black, the bead would shatter, leaving its wearer with a severe burn and completely vulnerable.

_'Never take it off,' _was another one of those principles they had been living since kindergarten. _'If you take it off, not only will it leave you open, but it will never work for the same person again.'_

Of course, the notion that it was only a horror story to keep them in line had passed through every middle school student's mind. Naturally, no one dared to even try, and Ichigo didn't think it was because of the detention they would receive.

He snapped his attention back to Yagi sensei as the four-thirty bell tolled - four thirty meant they had fifteen minutes to leave the School - and swept his belongings into his bag.

'What were you _thinking_?' Ishida hissed at him the moment Yagi slid the door shut behind him. 'What on earth made you mention them in the middle of class?'

Ichigo argued, 'well, it's true, and anyway it's not like the magicians are going to kill me for talking about them, right?' Though judging by the look on Ishida's face, they might as well have.

'Ah, famous last words, Ichigo-san,' Mizuiro walked calmly out of the classroom, not taking his eyes off his phone.

/

'Ichi-nii!' cried a shrill voice as he unlocked the front door. 'It was five-thirty, and you weren't back yet, so I thought that you...you-' Yuzu hiccupped and began bawling into Ichigo's shirt. Questioningly, he raised an eyebrow in Karin's direction.

The dark-haired girl shrugged, distractedly giving whatever was in the pot a stir. 'The teacher told us to be home before dark.'

'S-she made it sound so dangerous!' Yuzu wailed as she finally extricated herself from her brother's shirt.

'Yuzu, the sun sets at seven,' Karin reminded her.

She sniffed and nodded; Ichigo patted the younger of the two twelve-year-old twins on the head.

There was a loud crash, and something that sounded horrifically like the shoe rack snapping into two. 'It's a magician!' squeaked Yuzu, quickly wrapping her arms around Ichigo who had, since returning home, yet to put his bag down.

Karin didn't move a muscle from her spot on the sofa, her gaze transfixed on the television. 'I don't think so, Yuzu.'

'Papa's home, my sweet children!' The middle-aged Kurosaki sang as he twirled through the hallway. 'Oh my, it looks lively in here, and dinner,' he sniffed dramatically, 'smells _wonderful, _oh Yuzu what would we ever do without you? Masaki!' At that, Isshin threw himself at the wall-sized poster, pouring his heart out at the foot of the wall.

'I'm going up, guys. See you tomorrow,' Ichigo took care to march purposefully up the stairs to his room. He just really, _really_ didn't want to deal with his father at the moment. And he hoped they didn't think he was angry at them.

'Daddy, you made Ichi-nii angry!'

Oh dear.

'Don't worry, my dear, all seventeen-year-olds have their ups and downs. Let's just give Ichi-nii this one night to sort out his love life, okay?'

'I do _not_ have a love life!'

/

'Maybe that's the problem,' Mizuiro informed him the next morning after listening to his woes about his psychotic family. 'You really should find yourself a girlfriend. Unless you want to end up in the same boat as Asano-san over there.'

Indeed, Keigo was sobbing away to Chad. 'She said no! I don't understand why! Why would anyone reject the stunning, charming me?'

'You know why she said no?' roared Chizuru from her seat. 'Because Orihime-chan is mine!'

Ichigo groaned. He'd left one house of insanity for another, and for once he really would like the teacher to turn up early. Some things he could tolerate, like Yagi sensei rhapsodising about poems on the weather. Some things, like his father insisting on him having a love life, could and would not be tolerated.

Every normal day, short and quiet Takenaka sensei would enter the awfully grey classroom and promptly begin to take attendance, not by shouting names but by counting people. It would take her ages, walking primly around the room. Ichigo used to find great entertainment in searching for any hairs that fell out of her flawless bun, or counting the pink pearls on the gold string that held her talisman. He had found the answers relatively quickly (none, and twenty-eight), which left him to reorganise his desk, which was not a very attractive notion. Shortly after, she would make homeroom announcements, remind the class to leave before four forty-five, then dismiss them for class.

That morning, she began by hitting the duster violently against the abused blackboard - her unique way of obtaining the class' attention. The class watched silently as Takenaka batted the dust away and pushed her glasses up her nose. 'From today onwards, class,' she addressed the thirty or so high-schoolers, 'our School will be taking in several new students, and I am glad to tell you that one of them will be joining us. Do treat all of them kindly and with hospitality.'

She sent a sweeping glare at the class when someone echoed "hostility".

'Come in,' Takenaka sensei enunciated at the door, which slid open practically magically (Ichigo chuckled quietly to himself). Sliding doors, he mused, were like magic. There was no sign - doorknobs turned, door handles squeaked - but sliding doors were sneaky. Very sneaky. And if Yagi the Superstitious saw how he was smiling at nothing in particular, he would really flip.

'And your name is...' Takenaka sensei squinted at her clipboard before announcing at length, 'Hitsugaya Toshiro. Please stand here,' she gestured to the front of the class..

From his rather distanced position by the window, Ichigo's jaw dropped. It was a large amalgamation of many factors. First, there was the hair. He didn't really think anyone else on earth could have hair more outrageous than his own, all things and past experiences considered. Next, his eyes. Large, sharp, but stoic - and _teal_. Then Ichigo noticed his height. Standing rigidly, the boy was not any taller than Takenaka. And there was the way he wore the School's uniform. He'd discarded the stiff grey jacket, wearing the white button-up shirt untucked. Ichigo had only ever seen bullies wear the uniform in such a manner, and exactly none of them made it look _this good_. (He would stop right there; not that he was ogling or anything of the sort.) Never, he continued, had he ever seen a single person wear heavy, thick-soled boots under the grey school trousers.

He watched as Hitsugaya settled into the seat behind Ishida and started to read the timetable Takenaka had given him. Those teal eyes were practically dissecting the poor piece of paper.

On his way out of homeroom, Ichigo was stopped by Ishida. 'Kurosaki,' the sharp voice he had becom accustomed to (especially during Physics lessons) had him unfazed.

'What?' Still irate, Ishida and projectile motion with air resistance were not high on his Tolerables list.

'You have Advanced Maths now, right? Take Hitsugaya-san to class.' The boy was shoved awkwardly towards him, but quickly regained his balance.

'Um, hi. I'm Ichigo.'

'Hello.'

In the (terribly silent) walk across School campus, Ichigo discovered one thing about Toshiro - he would be what adults called a man of few words.

'Aren't you cold?' The sleeves of the uniform were flapping in the wind, and even under his own jacket Ichigo was starting to feel the chill creep into his bones.

'No.'

'Why'd you change School?'

'Magicians.'

Ichigo sighed. It was almost as if he was avoiding answering anything at all. The conversation ended there, and after Maths, Ichigo pointed him to the Philosophy classroom.

_Philosophy_! He didn't think there would actually be anyone who signed up for that. Figuring to put that behind him, he forged on through the day. After all, the week wasn't even half over.

Ichigo only spotted Toshiro again at lunch. He was sitting with a tall blonde who possessed assets wealthy enough to overthrow Inoue. He presumed she was the other transfer student. He tried not to stare, especially at the girl, and vehemently denied Mizuiro's advice on getting a girlfriend. Were they related? They seemed to be quite close.

Just then, Toshiro scooted down the bench, scowling. '_Don't_, you moron, that's my _lunch_.'

Well, maybe close wasn't the right word. He couldn't help but eavesdrop from the neighbouring table where he sat with his classmates.

'What are you planning to do after school lets out?'

'Library,' he spoke through mouthfuls of food.

'I'll come too.' Was this disregard for the nationwide students' curfew?

'I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Anyway, I'll be meeting Ukitake-san.'

'Excuse me, but last time I checked, neither of you are quite in top condition.'

The wheels in Ichigo's head were spinning dizzyingly. Top condition of what? Who was this Ukitake? Another transfer? And wasn't the nearest library like, an hour's drive away? Unless he meant the sorry excuse of a library tucked away in a corner of the School, of course.

'What do you mean? I'm perfectly fi-' He broke off into an intimidating hiss as the girl reached over and squeezed his left arm. If looks could kill, then this girl would be dead several times over. 'Matsumoto,' he threatened lowly between deep breaths, 'stop that.'

Matsumoto finally let him go. It was then that Ichigo first noticed the edge of a bandage that was usually well covered by the uniform's half-length sleeves. 'There, I've proven a point,' she told him. 'I'm coming with you.'

He grunted, eyes glowing with energy. 'I'm going back early. Dont bother me.'

'Cutting class on day one?' she inquired innocently.

'Well, last time you checked, I'm not quite in top condition, am I?' He waved his left arm smugly in front of her face. 'It's not called cutting class if you spend the time doing other beneficial things. I need to finish these books before the library charges me for holding them hostage. Twenty yen per book per day, if I'm not mistaken.'

'But you'll be skipping Literature!'

'There are more important things than Catherine and Heathcliff, Matsumoto.'

'No, I mean the orange-haired kid who's been staring at you from over there will be quite disappointed, don't you think?'

Ichigo was at a loss for words (and actions) as Toshiro turned to glare at him while Matsumoto merely smiled brightly from behind, deftly grabbing one of Toshiro's rice balls. He did what first came to mind and gave a hesitant wave and halfheartedly smiled the smile that Yuzu said would bring girls swooning at his feet. 'Do you want me to collect your notes for you?' was what fell from his mouth.

'The offer, Kurosaki, is appreciated, but no thank you.' He stood, turning to leave.

'Hitsugaya!' Matsumoto yelled after him, continuing only when he had turned back, 'I end at half past three today. I'll meet you at the dorm entrance?'

He sighed resignedly, and left in the direction of the hostel.

As it turned out, Ichigo had not been the only one staring. 'Did you see the girl? She's really hot!' blathered Keigo. 'And her timetable finishes at three-thirty, just like mine!'

'Sorry, girlfriend,' an unfamiliar voice called from behind him, one long finger that ended in a manicured nail flicked his shaggy brown hair into his face. 'I'm going out today. With someone else.' With that, Matsumoto Rangiku sashayed away.

After nearly two hours of Yagi sensei and iambic pentameters, Ichigo found himself in the hostel office holding a fat stack of notes and a diagnostic class placement test with a score of ninety-six. He waved them around animatedly, trying to gain the lady's attention. 'Hi? I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, and uh, can I have Hitsugaya Toshiro's room number? I need to pass him some stuff. He called in sick or something, right?'

She eyed him over her red-rimmed glasses before speaking. 'Fifth floor. Name plates outside each door.'

Ichigo always thought of stamina as his forte, but just like any of the School buildings, they had neglected to install any elevators in the hostel. He was feeling quite sacked out on the landing of the fifth floor. Knocking on what he hoped was the right door, Ichigo called, 'Toshiro? Are you in there?' before immediately regretting it. It would have been eternally humiliating if he had been battering down the door of the wrong person.

Thankfully, he was not. The panel of wood swung open inwards. 'First, you will refer to me as _Hitsugaya_. Secondly, what do you think you're doing here?' Cold, angry sea-green eyes were boring through him, and Ichigo was suddenly grateful that looks couldn't kill, or he would have been lying in the graveyard with that Matsumoto girl by now.

'Whatever, Toshiro. I've got your lit notes,' he mumbled, thrusting them in Toshiro's direction. He had changed out of the uniform, Ichigo observed, and was wearing a thin turtleneck with a pair of very comfortable looking trousers. 'How's the arm, by the way?'

'None of your business.'

Ichigo tried not to be offended, and instead peered over Toshiro's hair (an easy feat) into his tiny room. On the left was a bed, at the foot of which stood his thick boots. On the right was a very neat desk with several books spread open on it, along with a stack of very neatly taken notes.

Ichigo squinted. ' "The Art of Runework", Toshiro? "From Jyomon to Muramachi - Craftsmanship Through the Ages"? You don't even take History!'

'It's _Hitsugaya_,' he retorted acidly. 'Thank you for the notes, Kurosaki,' and he slammed the door, only to reopen it moments later, carrying a bag of books. He stomped noisily down the stairs after wordlessly locking the door, the half-undone clasps of his boots clacking along, adding to the racket. 'If Matsumoto comes, tell her I'm sick and lethargic and incapacitated, and therefore will not be opening any doors for her, and most definitely will not be wherever she thinks I am.'

'You mean the library?'

'Shut up.'

And not for the first time that day, Ichigo believed he saw those teal eyes glowing ethereally in the dim lighting.

* * *

end

* * *

_AN: There you have it, the first chapter of Ethereality. If you've read it all the way till here, you might as well drop a review, no?_


	3. Two

_Not for profits, not mine_

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

The library was a grand place. Housed in a restored mansion, the stairs were majestic and the lights dainty. The musty smell of books that had not been touched for years reminded him of the fact that barely anyone dared venture from their daily regime, couldn't even spare time to visit one of the most amazing libraries in Edo. Or so he believed.

To say that standing at the entrance lobby of the library was breathtaking was passe beyond belief and would hardly do it any justice, but Hitsugaya, nevertheless, found his breath being stereotypically swept away. He ascended to the second floor and made his way to one of the few occupied tables - to be specific, one that was weighed down to breaking point with dusty, yellowed tomes.

'Ukitake-san,' he greeted quietly, carefully placing his bag on the table where he thought would cause it least strain.

'Ah, Hitsugaya-kun,' the elderly man smiled warmly at him. 'I hope the travel here wasn't too bad?'

He shook his head, bowing slightly only out of formality. 'There have been worse times,' he muttered as he took a seat in one of the rickety wooden chairs that was not yet occupied by more books.

'I have been researching,' Ukitake gestured at the packed table, 'but not many links can be made.'

'I have a theory, Ukitake-san.' Hitsugaya passed him a folder of paper.

The older of the two hummed thoughtfully as he scanned through the minute words. 'Tell me,' he prompted.

'The moon influences the power of magic,' he began. If it were anyone else other than Ukitake, he was sure he would receive some form of crude insult. It was the nature of precisely this man that made him take it amicably in his stride.

'Demon attacks are, to our best knowledge, random. Magician-demon duos also seem to strike at random. They blaze districts, even cities down in a single night, reports and accounts compare them to a hunt, as if the magicians are searching for something, while the demons are the means to getting it.' He paused for a deep calming breath.

'On the other hand, magician attacks on Hunters are a completely different issue. We often group them together with the other attacks, but if you separate them, attacks on Hunters practically follow a schedule. On full moons, and new moons. If I were to hazard a guess, one condition is advantageous, the magicians will use it to boost their magic while the other condition is a hindrance. The magicians will take advantage of the Hunter's dip in power. Both circumstances weaken the party that is in the dark, but give an edge to those who know - the magicians.'

Ukitake was taking notes, drawing tables and annotating with an astronomy chart by his side. 'It's a new moon tomorrow night, Hitsugaya-kun.'

'I know. I need permission to test this theory.'

A thin, white eyebrow raised in his direction. 'Listen to this first, then. I got a call from Kuchiki-san yesterday, and it seems the magicians are drawing an alchemic pentagram across Edo. Their next stop is Karakura. Right here.'

'All the more we need to stop them. The new moon rises on its apogee tomorrow at seven twenty-four. It sets at six forty-two the following morning. It's a big window of opportunity for them.'

Ukitake levelled his gaze. The library was quiet, save for their breathing and the occasional rustling of paper being shifted. 'I'll contact Yamamoto, then.'

He tensed slightly, then uncrossed his legs. 'What can he do?'

Hitsugaya sensed the sigh that Ukitake didn't let out, but waited for his response. 'He can notify the Hunters nearby. Dispatch them to Karakura as soon as possible.'

Ever since he was seven, Hitsugaya had had many people tell him about his strange talent of pulling facial expressions that made others feel incompetent and quite stupid. He had never really bothered to find out what those expressions looked like, but judging by Ukitake's reaction, Hitsugaya could only guess that he was feeling incompetent and quite stupid.

'No. I don't care if it's a more viable option. I am not letting you do anything on your own as of yet.' There was another lull in the conversation, before Ukitake's expression lit up. 'Rangiku! You didn't tell me you invited her along, Hitsugaya-kun.'

True enough, he whipped around to see a tall figure bounding up the steps. His next words tumbled out instinctively. 'Kurosaki is _such _an ass.'

'Ukitake-san!' Matsumoto squealed, perhaps it was a girl thing to make noises high-pitched enough to white out digital devices. 'Oh, Hitsugaya. I thought you were debilitatingly ill. Didn't even open the door when I offered to return your books for you. I was almost ready to climb in through your window when Ichigo-kun suggested I keep Ukitake-san here company while you rested.'

He let his head hit the books on the table. 'Kurosaki is _such _an _ass_. I'm going to _skin _him alive.'

She eyed him with the wicked suspicion only Matsumoto could muster. 'You're not sick, are you?'

/

Ichigo regularly turned up early for school. Despite not being much of a morning person, the quiet and stillness the morning air provided was respite from the antics of the people around him. He would assume what Tatsuki called his statue pose, hunched over in his seat and staring out of the window. On the odd occasion he would sprawl over the table. Unfortunately for him, living on School campus and being an early bird meant from that morning onwards, Ichigo would have a companion in the form of Toshiro. At least he wasn't all that noisy.

Toshiro walked silently into the almost-empty classroom and pulled himself a seat from the desk in front of Ichigo. He sat facing backwards, with each leg on either side of the chair to accomodate the back rest. He folded his arms over the back rest and rested his chin on them. Ichigo would never be able to contort himself into such a position even if his life depended on it.

'I need to talk to you, Kurosaki.' The icy tone jerked his gaze harshly to its speaker.

'About?'

'Your brain capacity. It would do all of us at least some good if you exercised some common sense. _Why_ did you direct her to the library?'

'Well,' he began, trying hard not to race through his words to defend himself. It was almost as if some otherworldly power was thickening the air with every passing second and, dare he say it, lowered the temperature. 'She was genuinely concerned for you! And she was going to break your window-'

'Yes, I've heard about that one.' The atmosphere lightened slightly, the chill drawing back.

'And I figured that if there were glass bits all over your bed you wouldn't be doing any sleeping at night. See? And you're fine, she's alive, I think it went well,' Ichigo finished with a shrug, only to find Toshiro staring at him straight in the eye, his own wider than usual.

'You'd better go home before sundown today.'

'Oh, superstitious now, are we?'

'I mean it.' For some reason, he sounded more agitated than usual.

'And who am I to take orders from a squirt like you, huh?' Perhaps the mood was rubbing off; hopefully he didn't sound too malicious.

His ears met with the sound of a chair that had been rocking on two legs crashing down to four. Toshiro's palms slammed onto the desk between them as he leaned over it. 'If you really treasured your life,' he snarled, his voice dangerously soft and threatening, 'you would stop being such a thick-headed jerk and _listen_ to what the Government says for once!'

He had propped himself up on his knees on the chair, leaning heavily forward on the back legs of the chair, glaring at Ichigo throughout. 'It isn't so heroic anymore if you get attacked while feeling high and mighty defying the Government, is it?' he hissed.

The atmosphere thickened again as he retracted, and Ichigo gaped at the little shimmering object that slid from its usual hiding place.

It was something he was supposed to recognise, but never looked more foreign.

It was small and round, the size of his thumbnail, strung on a shimmering thread of gold that usually disappeared under Toshiro's collarline. The tiny bead's surface was chapped, the glass dyed a deep, angry shade of purple in its depths yet reflected the most beautiful colours he had ever seen.

'Oh, god. Is that your talisman?'

'Dont touch it,' he snapped, simultaneously tucking the bead back under his shirt and grabbing his bag before relocating to the seat closest to the door. He pulled out yet another book from his bag and proceeded to read it all through homeroom.

Ichigo caught him after waiting impatiently throughout homeroom. 'What do you know that I don't?' He worked to keep up with the fast pace of Toshiro's strides.

'Lots. Many of the subject teachers could fill you in on that.'

'I don't mean that! Why did you warn me and nobody else? I- stop ignoring me!'

Hitsugaya thought he was doing a pretty good job of ignoring Kurosaki. He had managed to ignore him for the past forty-five minutes, he could tune him out for the rest of the day. In fact, Kurosaki seemed to be having a rather good time doodling cartoons of Yagi sensei under the table.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin when his pocket vibrated, not that he would be telling anyone about that. Sliding the mobile phone out, he sneaked a glance at the screen. Caller ID was really useful.

'Sugita sensei,' he raised his hand. 'I need to answer a call.'

The teacher turned to face him, looking up ever-so-slightly from the calculus textbook he had been referring to. 'I don't think so, Hitsugaya-san. We're in the middle of class right now; I think that phone call can wait.'

He quickly schooled his expression into what he hoped was worry. 'I know, sensei, but,' he spared a momentary pause to look at his phone, 'my mother doesn't use this number unless it's an emergency.'

'Fine, but make it quick.'

He slipped out the door and held the phone to his ear. 'Ukitake-san.'

'Oh, good thing you answered,' the man sighed. 'I needed to tell you that the demon population of Karakura has risen significantly.'

He guessed Ukitake heard his breath hitch.

'I don't want you to do anything,' the tinny replica of Ukitake's voice told him. 'Yamamoto has sent the Hunters. Just be on your guard, and sit tight.'

He began to protest, because who wouldn't? 'Then what's the point in-'

'I will not put your life in the line of fire, Hitsugaya-kun. You're still young-'

'Fifteen,' he interrupted.

'And therefore the youngest person in the School, child.'

'If you don't want me to budge, I don't understand why you're telling me this.' Ukitake's silence was explanatory enough.

'The School isn't safe anymore, is it?' he asked the older man.

'Don't let the students find out.'

'But-'

'If anything happens, protect yourself.'

'And the other students?'

'Second priority. You know very well why we place your safety first.' The dull tone that followed told him Ukitake had cut the line.

He stepped back into class, but couldn't help the skittish feelings that the conversation brought on. What would be achieved by amassing demons in one town? Was it organised by the magicians? Would they step in? He knew he wasn't concentrating. Too many things - what would anyone get out of a demon attack? How many Hunters had come? Which part of Karakura would they hit first?

Something small and light hit him on the elbow. Looking up, he saw none other than Kurosaki waggling his orange eyebrows at him. With a frown, he smoothened the crumpled ball of paper.

_Anything wrong?_

The messy handwriting in blue ink was hastily written, and Hitsugaya vaguely considered the consequences of eating paper with fountain pen ink on it during class. Instead, he stuffed it into his pocket, which he figured would be more inconsequential on his digestive system.

He couldn't hold still, much less "sit tight". So the first thing he did when the window panes shattered was leap straight out of his seat.

'Calm down, everyone,' Sugita was shouting over the chaos, not that it did much good. Students were peering into the corridor, those near the ruined windows were retreating hastily, others were screaming and Keigo was ducking behind Chad...right. He would ignore that.

"Emergency Protocol", it was called. Sugita had finally convinced the class to gather the tables in the centre of the classroom for everyone to squeeze under, away from any more breaking glass. According to the protocol, they were to wait for School staff to announce an all-clear, so Hitsugaya was technically trapped indefinitely between one bored Kurosaki and one very annoying table leg while distant sounds ot School fixtures being destroyed rang in the air.

He could feel the magic, the sparks flying all over campus. He could recognise the spells being thrown around, and felt the supernatural tugging in his veins. Unable to repress his curiosity any further, he whipped out his mobile phone once again. The message to Ukitake was simple.

_How many?_

He didn't have to wait long for the equally succinct reply

_Six. Stay with your class and don't move._

Ichigo stared listlessly around. He knew something was up somewhere else in the school; there was a strange - foreign, yet almost familiar - sensation creeping through him. He turned; Toshiro was being unnaturally twitchy. 'Do you feel it?'

'Feel what?' His thumbs moved with a certain rhythm on the phone.

'That tingling - ah, never mind. Don't bother yourself.'

At least an hour had passed. Hitsugaya had been counting - just as Ukitake had said he sensed six of them, but the count had been weakening, leaving only one.

A man with bright red hair and more tattoos than he could count charged through the door. His hair was tied firmly away from his face, and his shirt had a large, distasteful bunny splayed over the front. There was a belt slung around his waist, a small pouch hanging on his left next to an empty hook. In his right hand, he held a relatively short, black rod. 'Anyone hurt?' he asked. 'No? Great.'

Behind him, a bald man was racing down the corridor. 'I lost it!' he was screaming. 'It was there just a moment ago-' screeching to a stop, he yelled, 'Renji! Ya saw anything?' This man, too, held the same black rod, but had energy flowing from one end, turning it into a deadly sword powered by magic.

Ichigo felt an unsettling presence that grated on his nerves. _Where_ was it coming fro-

'Behind you!' Ichigo turned upon hearing Toshiro to see his glare fixed on the corner of the corridor outside. Instantly, the bald man had reversed, and something large, dark, ominous, peeled around the corner, a flash akin to lightning coursing straight towards the Hunters.

With a deafening crash, thick smoke swallowed the bolt, and Ichigo suddenly felt hot, moist air around him.

'Interesting,' Ichigo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at the chilling, screeching tone of the creature amidst the screams of other students. It smirked, crouching directly in front of him, though he knew it wasn't looking at him. _Teeth_, he thought. _So many teeth_. He coud hear his heart pounding away, the blood rushing in his ears. He could _feel_ the sweat dripping down his back, down his temple, and he was really glad he was already sitting down or his knees probably wouldn't be able to hold him up. He couldn't bring himself to move, to hide, to answer. Was it a talent of demons, to instill such fear with a single word?

Toshiro, on the other hand, was taking it rather well, staring the demon down with his jaw clenched.

'Very interesting. Who would have thought you could figure me out?' Its dark face was mere inches from his face, but Hitsugaya kept his glare steady and brazen. The longer he kept this demon talking, the longer he could delay its attacks. If he could keep it going until the smoke cleared...

A rough arm that ended in a claw clamped down on his forearm, pulling him forcefully out from under the tables. He winced as his back hit the shelves at the back of the room, trying to ignore the fact that the demon's skin took the consistency of charred wood. 'Tell me, boy,' it spoke in as hushed a whisper as it could achieve, 'how did you know? I had the hunters _fooled_!'

Well, since the demon was trying oh-so-hard to keep the Hunters from locating them in the smoke, Hitsugaya spoke as loudly as he could. 'I don't know, stinky breath, maybe?' How was he supposed to protect himself without doing anything? 'And since we're having such civilised conversation by the bookshelf here, why don't I suggest you a good read?' He continued to speak arrogantly and very loudly.

Its grip tightened, but at least it hadn't attacked yet. He really, really wanted to kick it. Could he kick it?

Renji heard the demon hiss, and felt its energy begin flow in angry pulses. By the bookshelf? This would be easy.

'Let's go, Zabimaru,' red light spilt out from within the black rod in his hand, flickering and jumping wildly. Ichigo watched as he ran for the back of the room, blade at the ready.

Hitsugaya threw his weight forward, bringing his right leg up in a kick that punched through the creature's wing, pulling back and pressing himself against the shelf just in time to see the red blade swing through the air, catching the demon's back. With an unearthly howl, it swung around but stopped short when the magic-fueled blade cleaved it into two. The split-second silence that followed was almost deafening.

With a sigh, he slid to the ground. Now was the time to make the class think he was severely traumatised.

When Renji approached, he muttered a soft 'sorry.' The tattooed man smiled and crouched over him. 'I heard from Ukitake. What's the deal?'

'Nobody knows anything. Right now, I suppose I'm shaken and traumatised, and shall be taking the next few days off.'

'What's my role in this?'

'You tell me, Abarai. _I'm_ the traumatised student. Act like I'm one and I'll act like one, and we'll both get out of this classroom quick. I have an entire skeleton to pick with Ukitake-san.'

Ichigo couldn't hear the quiet exchange between the Hunter and Toshiro. The bald one had already left, leaving the red-haired one. 'Don't leave yet,' he ordered the class. 'Wait for the all-clear.' And finally, after a pause, 'I'm taking him to the nurse. I'll send a clean-up team as soon as possible, I don't think I need to tell any of you not to touch the demon.'

Ichigo sighed, watching from under the table as the red-haired man helped Toshiro up. He was perplexed - why didn't the demon have the same paralysing effect on Toshiro as it did on him? How did the demons even attack with the protection and guard the School was placed under? Was this premeditated? Predicted? What about the phone call, it was far too coincidental for him to have a family crisis right before a national crisis, right? Toshiro knew something he didn't, that he was sure of.

He was _so_ not going home before sundown tonight.

* * *

end

* * *

_AN: I bet you've figured at least something out by now, even if Ichigo hasn't._

_Currently, I have planned for this story to have one prologue plus ten chapters. Incidentally, I think there's a big button with the word "review" written on it that's calling your name. Answer it!_


	4. Three

_Not for profits, not mine._

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Ichigo was primarily miffed that Toshiro had hightailed it out of the classroom while he was still trapped under the tables, waiting for clean-up teams to retrieve the hulking mass that was the demon. It smelt _rank_ and he was already bemoaning the fact that he was so near to it.

Whatever had just happened, Ichigo surmised, had to be one of the most intimidating encounters of his life, yet one of the most intriguing. Also, most infuriating was the fact that the answer to the questions flying around his head had just been ushered out by the Hunter, never to be seen again...

Well. Maybe not, but for the rest of the day he would be left without answers.

It took eternity for the promised team of people to clear up the mess that had been made of their classroom, and he was pretty sure his tailbone had taken on a new shape. When they were finally done, Sugita sensei addressed the class.

'Listen up. School is dismissed for today. Go straight home, and I expect the assignment to be done by tomorrow. Extra credit for anyone who hands it in before lunch.' He turned swiftly, not waiting for the groans to peter out.

Of course, Ichigo didn't even consider taking the advice on going straight home. Grabbing his bag and heaving a sigh of relief, having left the stuffy and humid space under the tables, he marched off straight towards the nurse's office.

Meanwhile, Hitsugaya was not having a very pleasant experience either. 'If I told the teacher I was taking you to the nurse, I'll be damned if I don't and they find out', Abarai had told him very firmly.

So there he sat, on the edge of a bed in the nurse's office, looking with disdain upon the cup of hot milk forced into his hands. If he could tip it down the sink while-

'Do drink it,' the lady (what was her name again?) spoke. 'It'll help to calm you down.'

Splendid. She reminded him of Unohana. All she needed was the braid. Worse still, she obviously wasn't letting him out until he drank the terrible stuff. Even Unohana-san knew not to offer him milk.

The door clattered open, and Hitsugaya could have killed himself on the spot if he wanted to, for right in the doorway stood both Matsumoto and Kurosaki.

'Is anything the matter?' The nurse whose name he had yet to remember stood and headed for the door, and he couldn't help but notice how both Matsumoto and Kurosaki were eyeballing him with that I've-got-lots-to-ask-you look on their faces. But first and foremost, it was an opportunity. So, offering a slight apology to the cows, he poured the milk as quickly as he could down the sink.

'I'm sorry,' said the nurse, 'Hitsugaya-san needs to rest. You can talk to him another day.'

'I could take him up to the hostel,' he heard Matsumoto offer, and let them bicker over which was better for his health and mental stability.

Once he was out of there, Hitsugaya thanked her. 'I thought she was never going to let me out. Go home, Kurosaki.'

A deep scowl settled onto the student's angular features. 'Not until you explain everything to me.'

'There's nothing to explain. Demons have inexplicably forced their way into the School and broke the bookshelf in the Maths classroom.'

Ichigo looked to Matsumoto for help, who merely shrugged. 'There has to be more! I bet you guys know more than you let on,' he insisted, knowing full well that he sounded like a brat demanding for a lollipop.

For longer than he cared to keep track, was silence save for the scuffing of shoes on the ground. 'Oh, yes. I have a medical leave pass until Monday. I'll see you on Tuesday next week.'

'Where are you going now?'

'Hostel.'

Toshiro had refused point-blank to let Ichigo into his room - too much stupid for such a small space, he said - and Matsumoto claimed that dorm rules did not tolerate guys entering girls' rooms. Given that everyone had already left for home, and that he himself was not too keen on such prospects, Ichigo settled for a calming stroll.

The day passed torturously slowly as he wandered from place to place - not that Karakura had much space for reprieve.

/

Things were getting messy. According to Ukitake, the demons had broken in by smashing the rune anchors, which had, up until recently, boasted indestructibility. Yet there wasn't a single magician present at school, which meant the demons were getting smarter. More intelligent. Independent.

They were looking for _something, someone_, but why hadn't they waited till nightfall? Humans were slower then, and demons faster. If push came to shove, they would definitely have the upper hand at night.

Unless they had been acting under a Circle's orders, which would make much more sense. The magicians would provide intelligence, and the demons, grunt work. Yet, nothing could explain why none of them had gone for the kill. Hundreds of helpless targets conglomerated like a buffet, and not a single picking? Very unlike the magicians. And then there was the hour - daytime. Did they need the School? Why the School? If they wanted to upset the peace, then demolishing the Government building would have been much more effective.

Flipping his phone open, he held it to his ear, waiting for the rings to stop. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, he heard a crash and a yelp from the other side of the thin and hollow hostel wall.

'Hello?' came a flustered voice on the line.

'Matsumoto,' Hitsugaya deadpanned.

'You'd better have a damn good reason for indirectly smashing a bottle of nail polish, why didn't you just knock on the door?'

'What do you think happened today?'

She paused. What did she think happened today? 'Many strange things,' was her answer.

'I've got a question,' he informed her platonically.

'Fire away,' and she muttered something about smudged nail polish and a good brush wasted.

'What do you think they were thinking?'

'Oh, you tell me, Philosophy student.'

'I need second opinion before I say anything. Spill.'

'That there was no better time to find what they needed to find.'

'Good,' Matsumoto heard the familiar noise of a pen nib scratching on paper.

'Do you think anything like this has ever happened before?' she asked.

Her question was met with a derisive snort. 'Oh, you tell me, History student. Go find out; I'm calling Ukitake-san.' And her ears met with that altogether-too-harsh tone of a telephone line being cut.

Flipping lazily through sheets of loose paper, Hitsugaya rolled over, relatively annoyed that he couldn't prop his elbows up on the pillow and dangle his feet off the bed at the same time. Before he could hit the "call" button, his door shook dangerously.

'Toshiro! I know you're in there, so open up or I'll break it down!'

What happened next was not what Ichigo expected. The door flew open, letting cold air rush out into the corridor. 'I told you to go home. What could you possibly want from me?'

Toshiro snapped his phone viciously shut, shoving it mercilessly into his pocket. The bed inside was strewn with paper and the sheets were crumpled. He gathered that it was not really a great time to force his way in, but seeing as he had already done so, he replied very honestly.

'Teach me how to have a staredown with a demon without dying of fear first.'

'What?'

'You heard me. If I ever come face-to-face with one, I don't want to spend my last moments rooted by its feet like a plant.'

'Overcome your fear of them, then. Today is not a good day for this,' white eyebrows knitted even more closely than ever. 'Go home.'

Ichigo could feel his temper rising - hot-blooded youth, he'd been called countless times - but inhaled deeply. 'Why do you keep asking me to go home?'

Hitsugaya shot him a glare. 'What do demons thirst for?'

The answer came quickly, almost as if it were well-practised, almost instinctively. 'Magic.'

'Why would you be more at risk than the average kid at night, then?'

'Wait, what?'

'Join the dots, Kurosaki.' Hitsugaya relished slightly sadistically in the pleasure of watching Kurosaki's jaw exercise in disbelief.

'You don't mean that-' Ichigo found coherent speech slightly difficult.

'Yes, Kurosaki. I mean that you are a liability because there is magic in your blood. Go home already.'

Toshiro's words were echoing distortedly around his head. 'How do you know? The Government officials never said anything when-'

'If I were you, I would trust me more than most Government officials. The tests are not a hundred per cent accurate. The sun sets in half an hour, so get lost.' And the door slammed shut in his face once again.

Having effectively gotten rid of Kurosaki, Hitsugaya proceeded to make his delayed phone call.

'Hello, Ukitake speaking.'

'Ukitake-san, were today's happenings unprecedented?'

'Ah, Hitsugaya-kun, straight to the point as usual, I see.' Hitsugaya frowned, tapping one socked foot impatiently against the foot of the bed. He hoped Ukitake didn't launch into merry conversation on the weather.

'Has it happened before?' he asked quite impolitely.

'Why do you ask?' Was Ukitake trying to avoid the question?

'History repeats itself. You yourself told me.'

'Yes, yes. It was over a hundred years ago,' Ukitake reminisced as if he himself had been there. 'It was the start of the first and most prominent Circle, When Aizen Sosuke made a deal with the demons.'

Hitsugaya's silence practically screamed at him to continue.

'To strengthen the power of the demons, to lend them the power of the magicians so they could collaborate, he was after one man called Urahara Kisuke.'

'The jeweller?'

'The late jeweller. Aizen was after one gem - the Hogyoku - rumoured to be cut and refined using magic and demon arts and capable of innumerous wonders, including exacerbated power, longevity and extended youth. He, his associate magicians and demons tore through Edo searching for it. They finally found it, hanging as a pendant on a girl's necklace.'

'What of her?'

'Kuchiki Rukia, then aged sixteen. Paid with her life, Hitsugaya-kun.'

'Kuchiki...?'

'Not at all related to Byakuya-kun, if you were wondering. Completely different bloodlines, so it seems.'

'Thanks, Ukitake-san. Could you mail me any files you have on that?' He wrestled his turtleneck on while still holding the phone.

'Sure thing,' Ukitake told him. 'Rest well, I heard from Renji that they gave you sick leave.'

Hitsugaya gave a non-committal grunt as he grabbed his bag and stepped into his shoes.

There was a short pause before Ukitake spoke again. 'Are you telling Rangiku that you're going out?'

'I'll be sure to do that once I get back. Thanks again,' he ended the call without letting the older man respond.

/

Ichigo lay back on the grassy hill, revelling in the cool twilight air and letting the sounds of the running river fill his head. The night sky was clear but dark, the city lights casting a perfect gradient from bottom to top. The river, too, reflected the faraway lights in every direction, while the dimly lit bridge glowed softly in the distance.

It was the picture of serenity.

The world missed out on a lot, locking themselves in at this hour. Or perhaps it was quiet and picturesque precisely because of the absence of bustling human life. He wouldn't know.

What he did know, was that this peace was interrupted incredibly ironically by silence. The air stilled and the water quieted. It was all too chilling, almost akin to that night, eight years ago, when-

Ichigo's hand shot to his talisman, slightly warmed from contact with his skin.

'My my, jumpy, aren't we?' After that afternoon's encounter, Ichigo could recognise that jarring cadence even in his sleep. The demon's hot breath misted around it. This one had tough, leathery skin and gleaming golden eyes. The wings were large but still carried with them a delicate air, and this demon was at least twice the size of the one in School.

He felt the blood drain away from his face.

'I was told that there was a boy with magic in the school. So he was right, wasn't he? Too bad your hunters killed him.' Ichigo tried not to cringe against the ghastly voice of the beast. Its laughter was hollow, like bones rattling in an empty shell. 'It's so entertaining to see you stricken with fear like that, boy. Do you want to use your magic? Hmm?'

Beady eyes stared straight into his, and there was nothing he could do about it. 'Magic, boy. Strike me a deal,' it hissed, dragging the last syllable with a raspy breath.

'W-what? But the Government-' oh god, he sounded so pathetic. With every step backwards he took, the demon advanced another.

'Let me give you a taste of the power you could come to hold,' it ground out. Without warning, a ball of fire materialised within the demon's claws, shooting out at him. Ichigo noticed his talisman heat up, a shimmering sphere forming around him. It absorbed the energy of the spell, before shattering violently outwards.

The demon was unfazed. 'Oh, such a good boy, wearing your talisman. If you don't want your magic, then the world doesn't need you!' it roared, lunging towards Ichigo. 'If spells won't work, I'll defeat you with brute power!' it cackled, a blast of pressure tossed Ichigo back like a rag doll.

_Shit_. What about his family? _Shit. I'm sorry._

He braced himself for the blow that was sure to come, for the pain that was sure to accompany it.

Several seconds after, he cracked his eyes open, only to see the face of the demon leaning too close for comfort. Scooting backwards hurriedly, Ichigo fumbled for words. 'I-I don't get what you mean.'

_'There is magic in your blood.'_

No.

'I think you do, boy.'

No.

'Let's try again, shall we?' One clawed foot closed the distance by a step. 'Your magic for my skill.'

_'You are a liability.'_

'W-Wait, no, what?' Ichigo had never really felt such an urge for the restroom before.

'No?' the demon bellowed. 'Then I hope you've had enough of this world!' The air thickened, it was hard to breathe under the pressure. The demon's eyes were glowing, a bright aura flickering around its hunched form, ready to spring.

It came closer, its shadow loomed over him, yellowed teeth gleaming between upturned lips sneering cruelly.

_Move! Why won't I run?_

Without him lifting a finger, the demon bit out a hiss, recoiling slightly. Looking up in surprise, Ichigo saw a figure standing over him, right in front of the demon. The glow was foreign, but the white hair was unmistakeable.

'Hyourinmaru,' he whispered, almost imperceptible to Ichigo's ears. It was then that he noticed that the transfer student held in his right fist a black rod.

_I've seen that before..._

Raw, blue energy poured out into the shape of a blade. The temperature was dropping, mist started to swirl, and Ichigo thought he saw the tiniest of trembles in the demon. Ichigo watched as he placed his left hand below his right, lowering his stance. 'Your opponent is here, demon.' His voice was equally low.

As suddenly as he had appeared, Toshiro thrust the weapon forward, but the creature dodged skilfully, not bothering to stifle a cackle. Twisting, he swung the sword in a wide, sweeping arc. It left a wisp of mist trailing languidly in its wake, curling and distorting the soft lighting. The demon jumped, spreading its wings, and Toshiro cursed.

In the sky, the demon was so much more agile, so much faster, that Ichigo fully understood the profanity. Toshiro jumped backwards. 'Don't move,' he ordered. 'I can't do anything until it comes back down.'

Speak of the devil - or demon - it came crashing down, its heavy weight shaking the ground. Staying dumbfoundedly rooted to the spot, Ichigo watched Toshiro dart nimbly backwards, skirting the edge of the river's waters, all the while not sparing a glance from the demon's form.

'Trying to scare me with water, little Hunter?'

'Demons have no eyelids,' he intoned. Ichigo had never seen anyone kick so hard, so fast. Water flew, the spray hitting the demon in the face. In the distraction, Toshiro flicked the sword through the demon's wings, tearing them into ribbons.

'Now that we're both grounded, the playing ground's a little fairer, don't you think?'

'Don't get cocky, brat,' the demon shot forward, deadly claws extended in a sweep aimed for the heart.

Caught by surprise, Toshiro turned awkwardly, letting the demon draw its blade-like talons through his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, his gaze hardened on the creature and Ichigo shuddered involuntarily.

'Kurosaki, run.' Ichigo was slightly stunned at the order directed at him.

'Why? Where?'

'Behind me. I might miss.' The demon was watching with great interest as he stretched his left arm out. '_Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini,'_

'That's-' Even demons were capable of shock.

Toshiro's monotonous chant continued uninterrupted. '_Look upon yourself with horror and claw out you throat. The Ninth Way of Binding, Geki!_'

Red light exploded, compressing to form a sphere around the demon, which was howling in anger. 'How do you know about demon arts?' it screeched.

'I was taught, demon, to use one's strengths against themselves. It's not really my strong suit, though. Set upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru.' The blade crystallised to ice, sending a wave of ice towards the ensnared demon, completely engulfing it before shattering it to pieces, very much dead.

Ichigo watched mutely as he slid the black rod - Hyourinmaru, he'd called it? - into the bag he had discarded before the fight.

Straightening, Hitsugaya asked, 'are you hurt?'

'No, but you are.' Ichigo pointed out.

He only shrugged offhandedly. 'I'll get it wrapped up sooner or later.'

'Where did you learn to fight like that?'

Hitsugaya frowned. 'I thought you would have gathered as much.'

'No, what?'

'I've finished nine years of education and training at the Academy.'

Not for the first time that day, Ichigo had a goldfish moment. 'Wait. That means you're a- a-'

Hitsugaya flashed a lopsided smirk. 'A Hunter, Kurosaki.'

* * *

end

* * *

_AN: please don't kill me. Instead, you could review!_

_A shout-out to **Scarlett Foxie**,** Iciclebloom**, and** Ausuhime **for reviewing so far. _

_And, to justify any inconsistent usage of first and last names in narration, do note the first-third POV mash I'm using in my stories. When the story is told from Ichigo's side, Hitsugaya is referred to as Toshiro, and when it's told from Hitsugaya's side, Ichigo is called Kurosaki. When I use pure third-person POV, they revert to being called Ichigo and Hitsugaya. I know it got a little confusing towards the end, but please bear with me. You'll get the hang of it, because it applies to other characters out there as well._


	5. Four

_Not for profits, not mine._

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

'So, how are the stupid levels, as you put it?' Ichigo smirked as he closed the door to Hitsugaya's room behind him.

'Insufferable,' he replied, drawing the curtain and swinging the window open before pulling a messy drawer out.

'And how are you feeling about that?'

'Absolutely suffocated. Happy?' Hitsugaya tossed a roll of bandages onto the floor along with a jar of cream, and Ichigo wondered how someone could have such a ready supply.

'Uh, do you need any help?' he offered.

Taking a moment to spare him a glance and a raised white eyebrow, the shorter student nodded. 'Why don't you go fetch Matsumoto from next door?'

Grunting, Ichigo got to his feet, but the moment he stepped out of the door, he froze when he heard the lock click into place behind him.

'Of all the low, dirty little tricks-' he rattled the door, 'I was trying to _help_ you!'

'It worked, didn't it?' smugness emanated through the closed door.

There was a long pause before Ichigo asked, 'do you still need Rangiku-san?'

'That's really up to you; if she's having one of her mud cream face spa things then she'll kill you for interrupting, and the blame for her next pimple will be pinned entirely onto you.'

'...Ah, yes. She does strike me as that kind of person.'

/

True to his word, Toshiro had not turned up for lessons the following Monday, and one week after that incident, life seemed to be proceeding normally. Sitting in his seat listening to the teacher blather on about some Periodic Table trend or the other, Ichigo idly twirled the pen in his hand. Last Friday night's experience was rather unforgettable, to say the least. He looked down at his talisman, which had recently taken on the slightest tinge of green.

His mind was set in motion. Toshiro said he'd _finished_ education, so he had absolutely no reason to be in Karakura School. And what of Matsumoto? They clung to each other almost antisocially. Did that make her a Hunter too?

_There is magic in your blood_.

He shivered, letting the empty words echo around his head.

Could he fight? Would they let him fight? (Who was "they" anyway?)

The feeling of such helplessness was long-forgotten, yet not foreign. The horrible, nauseating feeling of being swallowed up by a pit, the feeling of cold numbness spreading from the bottom up, the kind that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

He vaguely wondered if there was anything he could do to save the world from upending itself, getting overrun by magicians and their evil associates...

Now that he thought about it, Ichigo realised he really knew next to nothing about the conflict that threatened their consciousness on a daily basis. When had it started? Who was involved? Why didn't the Government tell anyone? Why didn't the Government want them to know?

Personal interest, perhaps, or something so brutal it had been wrapped up nicely in an entire roll of red tape, or the Government had a separate agenda.

Something so controversial that would incur the wrath of the people - a revolution, would they be threatened by one?

It was a question Ichigo couldn't answer. The Hunters were the only force the Government had. If they were to turn against, the authorities would be dead in a heartbeat. But of course, every side would have a contrary - what if the Government joined the magicians and wiped out the Hunters? The civilians?

He was rudely jerked back to the classroom by a loud voice and knuckles rapping against the blackboard. 'I'll be returning your laboratory reports from last week. I must highlight to you that some of you here will have to resubmit a second report,' one polished black shoe tapped the floor by the teacher's desk as its owner browsed a few reports with a frown. 'I can _tell_, as a teacher fo twenty years, when you fake your titre volumes. I do _not_ want to see this happen in my classes after this. Am I clear?'

There was murmured consent from the class, but the statement hit Ichigo like a brick.

/

Hitsugaya Toshiro was having a very good time in bed.

By himself, of course, with a flask of steaming hot tea within arm's reach. He knew that he probably shouldn't have been having such a good time, given that all the other Hunters were busy trying to fix the school building, but he figured that skipping an entire day's worth of lessons was something he'd been dying to try for as long as he could recall. He could easily explain it away to the School board if he wanted to (or he could change the date on last week's medical certificate).

In fact, while the higher-ups were up in arms investigating the reasons behind the past week's events, he would content himself with digging up facts and trawling through the internet for details on Urahara Kisuke, the one and only man whose dabbling in dark magic resulted in the metamorphosis of the underworld to what essentially amounted to organised crime.

Urahara Kisuke had been a prominent jeweller, if the number of antique wedding rings on sale online were any sort of indicator, but there was next to nothing on anything else.

Alright. He took that back. This one looked vaguely helpful.

_Forbidden Gemology - by Shihoin Yoruichi and Tsukabishi Tessai_

_Urahara Kisuke was probably most well-known as a high-profile jeweller, but few know about some of his more exotic creations - some of the most dangerous of marriages between fine arts and dark magic._

_This book is available in the restricted section of Nagoya Library and is not on loan._

Highly laughable. Available? In the restricted section? The irony, and of course it wasn't on loan. Shrugging it off as one of those digital formulae, he frowned. How on earth was he going to get into the restricted section?

There were lots of different ways, with the most plausible being to ask Ukitake to flex some political muscles, and the least being to abseil in through the more-than-likely-locked windows from an adjacent building, which, now that he thought about it, would probably have its windows locked too.

In fact, speaking of locked entrances to buildings, it seemed that his door was being shaken to within an inch of its life.

It could only be one person.

/

Information and reports could be faked. False information under the power of the Government could very well present itself as truth and no one would be any the wiser.

The authorities of Edo had always boasted of their complete transparency to the nation - complete with an annual report on every possible detail from how many demon and magician attacks there had been to the rationale behind strengthening the dosage for the common cold medicine at general clinics.

But all things considered, perhaps they shouldn't have lapped it all up obediently. If the Government was after exactly what the magicians were, then were they not, by their own definition, evil as well?

Suppose both sides clamoured for the same item, it wouldn't place the supposedly "good" side in any better light, would it?

Transparency, he'd been taught, but if the Government had anything to hide, Edo was under the tangled, spider-web rule of a large band of hypocrites with a basement full of red duct tape.

Ichigo sprinted across the campus for the hostel building, flying up the stairs as quickly as he could without stumbling forward with the momentum.

_Come on, answer it, _he urged as he knocked on the door.

'Yes, Kurosaki?' Toshiro's eyebrows looked as if they had forged closer bonds since he'd last seen him. Perhaps they'd picked up some knitting.

'You said that the magicians were looking for something, previously. And I was thinking about how dodgy the Government has been, and how it's possible that they're hiding something from us, and I was just wondering if you knew what any of this means.'

It was as if Ichigo's question had unlocked a wall in his brain. Memories - theories? - bombarded him; words people had said, lines from things - books, newspapers, magazines - that he'd read.

_'Urahara Kisuke created eight jewels with dark magic.'_

_'You should be honoured, Hitsugaya-kun.'_

_'The Hogyoku is the most powerful of all.'_

_"The Amulet of Jyomon - a legendary forbidden gem?"_

_'Seven is a magic number.'_

_'Nobody else knows.'_

_"Will pay any price."_

_'It won't hurt, I promise.'_

_'Collectors' items are only truly valuable in complete sets.'_

_'Do tou know what a fairy ring is?'_

___'Nobody else knows.'_

_____'The Hogyoku is the most powerful of all.'_

_______'Seven is a magic number.'_

_______"Missing."_

_________'You should be honoured, Hitsugaya-kun.'_

He sucked in a breath. 'Kurosaki, call your family. Tell them you're coming home late tonight. We're going to Nagoya.'

'But lessons aren't even over yet-'

'Then cut class.'

/

Nagoya Library was a distinctly more modest place than the previous one, and the staff member at the counter was eyeing them with a very suspicious gaze.

'My group is doing a History project for school,' Hitsugaya informed the prim lady over the countertop, not showing any exhaustion from the six-hour journey. 'We were looking for a book written by Shihoin Yoruichi and Tsukabishi Tessai?'

It took several minutes of the librarian searching the database before informing the duo with a stern face that the book was in the restricted section. Just as he was about to respond with something along the lines of "my project mentor will be along shortly", Hitsugaya realised that he had completely forgotten to contact Ukitake.

Plan B then, or C.

Ichigo watched as he pulled a slim black card from his wallet, with the Government insignia and his name embossed in silver across its smooth surface. Hitsugaya tugged on the string of his talisman, revealing the same insignia engraved onto the glass bead and flooded with silver.

'I think I have the authority,' he said coolly.

The librarian was well and truly floored. 'On your left, sir. The library closes at ten tonight.'

'Thank you.'

Ichigo, on the other hand, was awestruck. 'I had no idea you could do that! Where else can you force entry into?'

'Gay bars. Look for the book.'

'No, I'm being serious here, I-'

'Well, so am I. Hunt for that book.'

/

A short phone call later, Hitsugaya seated himself in a chair opposite Ichigo. 'Ukitake-san will be arriving in about an hour. I think you should meet him,' he informed him emotionlessly as he picked up the old book.

The book was disappointingly thin, with old yellowed pages that were saturated with dust. The print was small and compacted, and the images faded with age.

One would think that someone would have thought to reprint the book, but apparently not.

Eight gems - Urahara had created one for each era leading to Edo. The Hogyoku, currently in the possession of the magicians, was the first and was also named the Amulet of Jyomon.

The remaining seven had significantly less creative names - the Amulets of Yayoi, Kofun, Asuka, Nara, Heian, Kamakura, Muramachi.

_Seven is a magic number._

He brushed it aside.

Looking up from the book, he saw an oddly vacant look on Kurosaki's face. Deciding that the research could wait a little, he shut the book and produced a file from his bag. Tossing some paper in the other student's direction, he said with a smirk, 'here. Do some calculus. It'll keep us both occupied till Ukitake comes.'

And despite the scandalised look on Kurosaki's face, it did indeed. The senior man hurried in their direction just as Hitsugaya turned to the last page and Ichigo simultaneously shredded his fifth sheet of working paper.

Standing, Hitsugaya greeted him and said, 'Ukitake-san, this is Kurosaki. He has some things to talk to you about.'

'What?' Ichigo mouthed at him.

'Everything you told me,' he quipped. 'I think everyone has the right to hear it straight from you.'

With the white-haired man nodding kindly in his direction, Ichigo began by raising his palms defensively. 'First off, I didn't start it. Toshiro said that I've got magic, and after the demon attacked us that night-'

Hitsugaya shot Ichigo a glare, and Ukitake too was giving Hitsugaya a non-too-friendly look.

'And you didn't tell me?' Ukitake reprimanded.

'Continue, please.'

'Toshiro said that they were looking for something but didn't know what, and I was thinking and came to the conclusion that it's highly likely that whatever it is, it's highly sought after by both the magicians and the Government.'

'It may be the key to whether or not the magicians overthrow the political power or not,' Hitsugaya interrupted.

'Actually,' Ukitake spoke, 'I've just been informed that the magicians have been collecting the eight gems that Urahara had created.' He picked up the ancient book that Hitsugaya had been reading. 'And that the last missing gem, the gem that they have been searching fervently for, is the Amulet of Nara.'

Wordlessly, Hitsugaya flipped to the page printed with coloured depictions of the eight jewels. Each gem was coloured a shade of the rainbow, while the Hogyoku was perfectly colourless. Once again in order, Yayoi was dyed a deep blood-red, Kofun a rich shade of amber, Asuka a pale lemon, Nara was lush green while Heian was aquamarine, Kamakura was a night-sky blue and Muramachi a pale violet tint.

Except for the palm-sized, spherical Hogyoku, the rest were oblong and no larger than a thumb.

'This one,' he pointed at the Amulet of Nara, 'is _painfully_ familiar.'

'That's-' Ukitake's ringtone interrupted him. 'Sorry, uh, it seems to be an urgent call,' he smiled weakly, stumbling with his words.

Before he answered the call, Hitsugaya looked him in the eye.

'Six months ago. It's not a long time, but I've figured things out. Go on, answer your call.'

/

It was late and Hitsugaya knew it. Ukitake had left hours ago, leaving the two of them to manually copy the contents of the book. The full moon now hung high in the sky, shining brightly. He knew his magic was stronger tonight - he could feel it, marginally, and he also knew that his power wasn't the only presence that hovered thick in the tense night air. He wondered if Kurosaki could feel the same push, as if his power was as changeable as the tides, but quickly brushed it aside. He could _not_ let himself get distracted, not when the magicians were probably more powerful tonight too.

'Kurosaki, take my phone,' he held the small device out in Kurosaki's direction.

'Huh? Why?'

'We're parting ways. Get to the train station and stay there. If I don't turn up by midnight call Ukitake, and make sure you're not alone at any point in time.'

Ichigo wasn't sure what to do. Toshiro's body language screamed danger; his back and arms were tensed. He watched as Toshiro clipped a belt around his waist, his sword and an assortment of several other items that Ichigo assumed to be other Hunter essentials attached to it.

'Leave. The longer you wait the worse it might get.'

'O-okay.'

Hyourinmaru at the ready, he waited for him to be out of sight, and a few more minutes to be on the safe side. 'Show yourself,' he commanded.

He tensed but forcefully relaxed. Being stiff would not place him in an advantageous spot, but instinct overcame him once more when a tall figure emerged from the shadow. 'How noble of you, and very, very brave.'

The voice was deep, and had a strange gruff tone to it, and Hitsugaya lowered his stance. _Not a demon. _

The dim street light gave him all the details he needed to know. Dressed in customary white dress, he was very obviously a magician. The gangly build made him look spindly, the thin layer of hair he sported looked greasy and the sharp angles of his face cast ominous shadows on themselves.

'Who are you?' he tried not to let worry creep into his voice.

'The name's Shawlong Qufang, and I believe you have something we want.'

'What do you want?' He willed himself to take deep, even breaths despite every nerve shouting at him to run.

'Aizen-sama has sent me to collect something of utmost importance to his collection. Surrender it, or I shall search you for it,' his height made the single step forward that he took seem that much more threatening.

With no warning save for a slight twitch, Shawlong sprang forward, stabbing a sword the colour of bone viciously forward. He barely dodged, and was forced to twist around awkwardly, pitching backwards and landing on his left elbow in order to not crack his head on the cement underneath him. Now his shoulder was screaming and his entire arm shaking, and Hitsugaya just knew that his left arm would be dying an earlier death than he would.

Raising Hyourinmaru parallel to the ground across his chest, he blocked the magician's swing and stood, letting ice crystallise onto Shawlong's blade, his own emitting a faint layer of cold mist. Dropping back, he let his arms fall into a defensive stance with Hyourinmaru's blade crossing his heart. He knew he was outclassed this time, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying.

Shawlong took yet another step towards Hitsugaya, and he shifted his weight to his right leg, ready to move, to jump, to kick, to roll. Whichever permitted his survival from his opponent's next move. All he needed was a reflex quicker than the other's.

In a sudden explosion of cement and smoke, fire engulfed Shawlong, a scorch mark blazed in its trail, only to be put out instantly with another burst of magic. The sound of magic sparks on flesh. The smell of burning flames. The feeling of chokingly heavy smoke.

Shawlong Qufang was most probably dead, if not severely injured.

Lowering his arm from his face and looking up, his jaw dropped in shock. 'You-'

'Don't move.' the man's sharp voice was easily distinguishable, even if his face was not, hiding beneath the oversized hood that he wore. Hitsugaya didn't need to be told; he reflexively froze - in shock or terror, he couldn't tell. In that split second, however, it didn't matter.

A strong arm had wrapped itself around his neck, something bitingly cold pressing at him just under the jaw.

* * *

_end_

* * *

_A/N: and, it's a cliffie! the first in this story, I believe. Review, you know you want to, FFnet even made it that much easier for you now._

_Uh, as to whether Hunter status really earns you right of way in a gay bar or not...is entirely up to your imagination._


	6. Five

_Not for profits, not mine_

_Things get quite T-rated here. Also, a little language. Not too colourful, but worth taking note of._

* * *

Chapter Five

* * *

So he hadn't listened to Toshiro, and now he was in the park. It was ridiculously dark, and if anything was going to give him away, it wasn't his fault. He would pin the blame on the little device Toshiro had forcibly thrust into his hands earlier.

Ichigo placed the small phone down, staring intently at the glowing screen that displayed the time.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved an untarnished dagger lying snugly in its leather sheath. Ukitake had given it to him with a very shifty look in his eyes when Ichigo has asked about the sword-rod contraption all the Hunters seemed to own.

'It's not quite like our zanpakuto,' he had whispered, 'but I think it'll be useful. Don't let Hitsugaya-kun know about it, alright?'

Toshiro hadn't suspected a thing upon returning from the washroom. Either that, or Ichigo didn't have a clue that Toshiro knew about it. He preferred to think the former.

Sliding the blade out into view, Ichigo saw it was covered in runes. _A magical blade._

It wouldn't hurt to keep it at the ready, Ichigo thought, when a burst of raw energy not unlike that morning at school nearly knocked it from his grasp, leaving him gasping for air. _What the hell-_

And against all his better judgment, Ichigo tumbled from his perch on the tree and sprinted. He ran towards what he assumed was the source of power, not noticing the turns he had taken, or the number of empty roads he had jaywalked. Screeching abruptly to a halt, Ichigo realised he was right back where he had begun - at the crossing outside the library.

He was holding nothing but a runic dagger, with nothing but middle-school brawling experience. The last time he'd held a knife, the Biology teacher had very quickly snatched it from his grasp and proceeded to slice the potato samples for him. What on _earth_ made him hurl himself into a tussle he couldn't win?

The creature he faced was no more beautiful than those he had previously encountered. Beady yellow eyes glimmered, its wings fluttering deceivingly daintily - was it _drooling_? Ichigo tried not to breathe its foul stench through his nose and held the knife as steadily as he could, feeling quite ridiculous in front of the clawed monster.

_Chill, you don't even know what the runes might do_.

For about the third time that night, Ichigo nearly released his hold on the dagger. Who was that? A cursory glance told him there was only him, the vile creature (right, demon), beyond it was the tall, greasy magician and then, out of sight (purely because he was too short), was Toshiro.

He squinted at the demon, not at all liking the way it was eyeing him hungrily.

Ichigo sensed it before he saw it, before he heard it. White-hot flames surged from his peripheral vision, gorging a deep, charred furrow in the road where the magician stood. The man's white clothes were black with soot, and he crumpled to the ground, motionless. The demon too, was stunned, but when Ichigo finally jerked his gaze up from the smouldering mess on the road, the sight that met his eyes took him by surprise.

Hyourinmaru was on the floor, and Toshiro was not dusting himself off; neither was he smirking.

/

Hitsugaya tried to ignore what he knew had to be a knife pressing against the skin just below his jawline. He knew the manoeuvre all too well, and he knew several different ways to make the man release him. He could grip the man's fingers until he dropped the knife, or he could elbow him in the ribs, or he could kick him somewhere sacred.

He also knew that if the cloaked man really was who he thought it was, then he certainly knew more than enough ways to stop any escape attempts.

And above all, there stood Kurosaki, helplessly pointing a runic knife at the demon that had accompanied Shawlong, and by the looks of it, the demon was ready to fight. Kurosaki, the definition of greenhorn, looked awfully skittish - his gaze darted around, flicking nervously from one area to another.

Oh god, he really didn't need the death of a civilian on his resume.

'Concentrate, Kurosaki! Ground it!'

The orange-haired teenager stared in his direction for a good few seconds before acting on his advice, and Hitsugaya felt the pressure increase.

'I didn't give you permission to speak,' the man's voice was cold like hardened steel.

'What do you want?' he spat harshly.

_I know what you want. _

'Silence. You are in the possession of something the Government needs.'

_Needs, he says. Kurosaki was right. A double agenda._

/

Ichigo swung the dagger - its reach was pathetic, and if demons could snicker, the one before him was most definitely snickering.

He dropped his gaze to the tiny blade. If it was magical, and if he had magic...

Now how did it work? He tried concentrating on it, but there was nothing. He tried again. If magic was some sort of energy, he could try channelling some of his own - everything was always mind over matter, right?

To his amazement, the knife was shaking slightly, its runes beginning to glow.

He heard Toshiro shout in warning, 'behind you!'

Spinning instinctively, Ichigo's jaw dropped when a pulse of black energy flew weakly forward from the dagger.

/

Hitsugaya clenched his teeth, twisting and kicking madly. 'Let me go,' he bit out.

'You and your friend are in violation of the-'

'He's _human_!' he was practically screaming now. 'What are you thinking? That we can downplay their _lives_ just because of some _law_?'

'Stop your insolence this instant.'

'Do you _know_ what you're saying? What are people going to think when they find out that you sacrificed one of them for your _honour_ or _whatever_ it is that you uphold the law for? Or are they not going find out at all? From the _transparent_ government?' he had quieted to a whisper. 'While you're at it, you could take off that hood. I know who you are. _Answer me, Sasakibe!_'

/

Ichigo was awestruck. It didn't matter that there was now a voice in his head - it was rather helpful.

He tried again - each attempt was marginally more successful than the last. Focus more, put more energy into it, swing harder. There's so much more that you can do.

So he listened to the voice.

All the while, the demon was chortling merrily as it danced back and forth, dodging each of Ichigo's little waves of energy with ease. In fact, it was getting quite annoying.

Funnelling all that he had into his hands, he swung with all his might. Pure, unrefined energy engulfed the demon, drowning out its dying screams with a deafening roar.

He had just killed a demon with a weapon no larger than a butter knife. _I am so kick-ass_, he complimented himself as he turned wearily to face Toshiro. His grin dropped, and the last thing he registered before fatigue overtook his system was not pleasant.

/

Hitsugaya felt the grip around him release momentarily before he was thrown roughly to the ground. His cheekbone stung, and stars exploded at the back of his vision. Something heavy - Sasakibe's foot, probably - landed forcefully on his back, but he couldn't summon the strength to retaliate. 'You are not indispensible. Toe the line once more, Hitsugaya Toshiro, and we _will_ get rid of you.

He didn't remember anything after that.

/

Ichigo did not wake in a very comfortable position. In fact, someone was shaking him awake and he was not feeling at all well rested (it felt strangely like a Monday morning, truth be told).

'Five minutes,' he heard himself mumble.

'I have spent the past half an hour giving you five minutes,' a voice droned.

Had he, really? He didn't recall any of that.

'Look, we need to bust out of here and I was thoughtful enough to think to take you along. Are you waking up?'

Ichigo cracked his eyes open and blearily tried to take in his surroundings. He was lying on the floor of a room so ill-furnished it was nearly bare. One dusty cushion lay abandoned in a corner of the room, and a rickety chair occupied another. The ceiling was high, and a square window was set in the wall opposite the door. He turned, and found an impatient Toshiro staring back at him. The other boy's pockets were slit, their linings poking awkwardly out, and he seemed to have lost his socks and shoes somewhere along the way. A quick check told Ichigo that he was in roughly the same state himself. It was obvious that they had been searched - and equally glaringly obvious that the authorities had not found what they were looking for.

'Where are we?' he asked at great length.

'Government detention centre,' Hitsugaya replied calmly.

'The _what_?' Oh, right. The demon, and the hooded man, and...the government?

'Not for long. How good are you at throwing things?'

'I'm not breaking that door down with a rusty chair, if you were wondering.'

Hitsugaya threw him a strange look. 'You would have to be an idiot to consider leaving through the door. Stand over there.'

'But isn't it cold out?'

'I'd rather have cold feet out there than have cold feet now.'

Ichigo shuffled over to the spot under the window. 'Look, I don't see how-'

'Lace your fingers.'

'Why?' He was completely lost, but complied anyway.

'I'm going to jump, and you're going to throw. Thereotically I can reach the window to break the grille off,' he said very matter-of-factly.

'Break it? With what?' Hitsugaya noticed Ichigo's gaze flit back to the chair.

He sighed. 'Look, I know the chair is a much better weapon than the cushion, but I had something else in mind. Like magic.'

'I strongly advise you against that,' a new voice interrupted. Both Ichigo and Hitsugaya whirled around - when had the door opened? Hitsugaya sent a poisonous glare to the man neither of them recognised, to which the man smirked, hooked a finger around his collar and nodded in his direction.

Curiously, Hitsugaya pulled the collar of his shirt down slightly, revealing a messy swipe of thick black ink in a branching spiral. The pattern was intricate, and spread from his collarbone downwards - how far down, he hadn't bothered to check.

'You bastard. What does it do?'

'I thought you would know, Academy graduate that you are,' he was not being very helpful at all.

'Three intertwining branches for suppression, and a double-arm spiral for blowback. You're stopping me from using my magic, and making sure it hurts if I do somehow beat the first rune.'

'Very good. Now sit tight,' and the sound of the door slamming echoed emptily around the room. The next hour saw Ichigo pacing restlessly around the room, muttering irritably to himself, and occasionally trying his hand at some basic interior decoration using a chair and a cushion - he'd tried all sorts of combinations, but figured that the assembly looked best with the cushion on the chair, not the other way round. Hitsugaya, on the other hand, spent the time lying on the floor.

'Is anything, uh, _wronger_ than it already is?' Ichigo ventured, letting his grammatical lapse slide.

'Rune, sucking energy, tired,' he mumbled quietly.

'How do you get rid of it, then?'

Hitsugaya sighed - out of weariness? Resignation? 'Blood to satisfy, alcohol to purify, oil to clean,' it sounded like a religious mantra.

'Do you have any idea why they're keeping us here?'

Hitsugaya didn't bother to look at Ichigo. 'They think one of us has the Amulet of Nara.'

Ichigo frowned, 'do you?'

He shrugged.

The peaceful reprieve was shortlived, for the door burst open again, this time bringing in a man with a rather strange mask and electrifyingly blue hair, and a lady with a long braid and a straight fringe trailing behind him. Ichigo heard Hitsugaya mumble again, 'Kurotsuchi. Just the man we need.'

Kurotsuchi strode purposefully forward, and Ichigo nervously shifted himself between Hitsugaya and the man. 'Nemu,' his voice was nasal and unpleasant. 'Restrain him.'

The girl wrestled him away - _damn, how could she be so strong?_ - and pinned his arms behind him. 'Your participation in this process is unnecessary,' she instructed robotically. 'Resistence is futile,' she added equally monotonously.

Ichigo could only watch helplessly as the madman he had come to know as Kurotsuchi sliced Hitsugaya's left sleeve off none too carefully at the shoulder.

Hitsugaya didn't want to admit it, but he was absolutely terrified, and his body was not letting him respond with his instincts. He was shutting down from fatigue, and could only watch with sick transfixion as the researcher tugged his sleeve off.

He shuddered when Kurotsuchi laughed, informing him triumphantly that 'there's nothing a little research can't do, boy. Hospital records don't lie, and we've finally put two and two together.'

_God, he's going to find it_.

He dully noticed sharp nails digging into his arm, and felt the layers of careful bandaging fall swiftly from his injured shoulder and upper arm with one calculated movement of a knife. He followed the researcher's gaze, knowing that he was staring at the signature evidence of stitches - a barely perceptible, slightly puffy white line.

_I'm not even fighting back_.

Kurotsuchi sneered again. 'Ukitake thought he was so smart, using you as a vessel, but not smart enough for me.'

He couldn't watch, letting his eyes slip shut, but flinched against the sensation of the blade tracing the scar against his underarm, trying to oppose the strong hand that pinned his elbow to the ground. He didn't scream only because he didn't have the energy to. Air wasn't coming fast enough - his airways were constricting, his lungs not working fast enough, and he could feel his arm bleeding with reckless abandon.

_It hurts so bad, why can't I stop him?_

Ichigo was disgusted. Horrified.

The madman was forcing the horrifically deep wound open, and the mere sound of Toshiro's quickening breaths was panic inducing. Yet Kurotsuchi seemed to be revelling in his job. Gleefully, he wrenched something out - he was pretty sure he heard something tear - and Toshiro was sobbing uncontrollably by that point.

Bowing in mock respect, Kurotsuchi said, 'thank you for your co-operation, boys.' Ichigo saw him rub his new acquisition in one bloodied hand, not quite believing his eyes when he saw that the little oblong crystal had been wiped hastily, glinting green in the bright corridor light. 'Leave if you want to; the Government has no more use for you. Come, Nemu.'

And the duo swept out as if nothing of importance had happened at all.

/

Matsumoto Rangiku was not as ditzy a girl as the first impressions she left tended to imply. She was quite responsible, actually - she brought a nail file and a nail treatment kit wherever she went.

She first noticed something was amiss that morning when neither Ichigo nor Hitsugaya was in class, and the latter failed to answer his phone. Before midmorning, she had received a message from Ukitake. and had left the school compound within the hour.

/

'Yamamoto-dono, Kurotsuchi Mayuri reporting.'

'Enter,' the harsh voice of a man who had weathered much ground out, less than musically.

The heavy door swung open, and Kurotsuchi bowed. He waited patiently for the old man to speak first.

'Have you accomplished what was to be done?' His speech was not slow, his mind sharper than any other man his age.

'Yes sir, of course, sir. I do not return without completing the bidding of the leader of Edo,' he assured placatingly.

Yamamoto turned to the side. 'Sasakibe, send for Ukitake. Request of him to..._remove_ his charges from this building.'

'Yes sir.'

Silence filled the room, both parties agitatedly waiting for the door to click shut before continuing the conversation.

'Yamamoto-dono, I present to you the Amulet of Nara,' with a flourish, Kurotsuchi proffered a velvet pouch in his leader's direction. Wordlessly, Yamamoto let the gem tumble onto the hard wood of his desk. It had been perfectly polished. Satisfied, Yamamoto pocketed the gem and the pouch.

'Your invaluable assistance has been noted, Kurotsuchi.'

The man in question smiled - a rather sickening expression to behold, really.

'Now, all we need is the Hogyoku from Aizen.'

* * *

_end_

* * *

_AN: there we are! Relative to the long wait I forced you guys through, this is a pretty short chapter, I know, but the past few months haven't exactly been all peace and butterflies for me either, so, forgiveness please?_

_Do review, it boosts my ego some (okay, maybe more than that). It's my first time writing something...like this. It is quite scary because I don't know if I'm doing the characters/the plot/my concepts any justice at all. _


	7. Six

_not mine, not for profits_

* * *

**[Note:** _there will be much bomb-dropping and mindblowery here, so I recommend that after this two-month long time lapse of no updates (which I am very sorry for) you re-read the last two chapters - especially chapter four, the one on Nagoya Library. For the full effect of the mindblowing today, sit and absorb Hitsugaya's thought process in that chapter. Also, I half lied when I published this story. The prologue is_ not_ inconsequential, if you catch the link later in this chapter_.**]**

* * *

Chapter Six

* * *

Ichigo was at a loss. Toshiro had, for obvious reasons, refused to let him touch his arm. It had to be hours since their tussle on the streets of Nagoya, for the sun was rising. He first watched as more light gradually streamed through the little window, then watched some more as the long rectangle of light it cast on the ground shortened while the sun rose higher in the sky.

He had also tried at least a million times to coax Toshiro into letting him stem the bleeding, and the outcome this time round was no different.

'No,' using his good arm, the boy smothered his own face with the dusty cushion that Ichigo had proffered earlier (much earlier) that morning.

'I know you don't want anyone touching that,' Ichigo tried to rationalise, 'but if you could perhaps let me tie it up then maybe you wouldn't look like a ghost or some kind of dead apparition that's quite apparently dying again! Because he's not letting anyone help him!'

There was a soft _flump_ accompanied by a cloud of dust as he slammed the cushion on the floor. Ichigo looked down as Toshiro glared straight back up at him. In the yellow morning light, he could see the salty tracks that ran down his face, the puffiness around his eyes, and the pricks of dried blood where he had bitten his lip.

'Sorry,' Ichigo mumbled. 'Shouldn't have said that. But really, I just wanted to help you, because, you know, I figured I'd rather you not be dead,' he said quietly.

'Why?' Toshiro's voice was even quieter. 'The Government has no more use for me. You heard it too.'

Ichigo was quite taken aback. 'Your life doesn't have to revolve around them,' he answered.

'I spent every schooling year at the Academy. I didn't go to a normal school even once. I know more about fighting than everything else put together. I can't do anything here.' His voice was no louder - nor any stronger - than a whisper.

'So you'd rather die here, than keep living? Why can't you start life over? And anyway, not even the Government can stop you from using your magic.'

'You'd be surprised,' Toshiro mumbled, turning away, choosing instead to stare at his bloodied fingers.

The taller boy shrugged. 'If you're good at something, then there's a living to be made. I don't know...someone needs to film a street fight. Someone wants the snot beaten out of their enemies? Not all is lost, you know.'

'Most people can punch their own enemies.'

'Ah, but not all can punch their lights out.'

Ichigo sighed, slightly mesmerised by the thin cloud of moisture that accompanied in the cold air. The exhaustion from the sleepless night was eating away at him, but he knew that Toshiro was probably feeling it ten times worse than he was. 'We'll talk about that later. For now, give me your arm.'

Without waiting for a response, he lightly grabbed the narrow wrist and was mildly surprised when the other boy didn't jerk away like he had so many times before.

'Yell if it hurts,' he said, mostly just to fill the silence that had enveloped them.

Of course it hurt. Hitsugaya bit his cracked lower lip again. He was losing precious moisture in the sweat that beaded on his forehead, and hated himself for it. He could feel the warm blood running across his cold arm, could feel the material of his mutilated sleeve irritating his shoulder, could feel the gentle touch that was gingerly pressing what was probably the discarded sleeve against his arm.

All the while, Kurosaki was babbling incessantly, but he barely registered a word of it.

'Hold still,' the voice sounded distant and muffled, as if he was underwater. 'I'm going to tie it down. Are you okay?'

To Ichigo, the lack of response was slightly worrying. Glancing towards the door, which lay ajar, he toyed with the idea of grabbing Toshiro and leaving, but knew it was an awful idea since all their belongings lay stashed somewhere at the front office. He didn't even know where they were, so how was he going to get home without any money? The beginnings of helplessness were gnawing at him, rationality slowly losing its grip.

Also, he had no idea how the boy would react to being hoisted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

From the vague direction of the main door, Ichigo was jarred from his thoughts when an apocalyptic crash shook the building down to its foundations. He heard the mixture of confused, furious and authoritative shouts from the front. Despite the situation, he found himself oddly relieve to see Toshiro flinch in shock.

_He's still conscious. _

That was what mattered now.

'What did you to him!' Enraged howling ripped at his senses, and Ichigo could hear two sets of footsteps overlapping irregularly with each other.

'Calm down, Rangiku,' it was the familiar voice of Ukitake; its soothing tones calmed Ichigo's frayed nerves even though the words were not directed at him - he didn't even realise how frazzled he had been feeling until now.

'Calm down?'

'Ukitake Jyushiro, reporting on request of Yamamoto-dono to meet Hitsugaya Toshiro,' Ichigo presumed he was talking to one of those stuck-up desk people. There was an '_oof!'_ and the sound of someone getting an elbow in the gut, and in a flurry of hysteria and theatrics, the duo burst into the room.

Ichigo saw Ukitake's gaze flit from the blood to the makeshift bandage, and vaguely wondered what was going through his mind. Matsumoto, on the other hand, was immediately by the boy's side.

He watched as she spoke quietly to him, and saw the relief in Toshiro's half-lidded eyes. She was wiping his sweat with a pink handkerchief, and Ichigo didn't miss his lack of response and breathlessness.

'They've put runes on him,' he interrupted Matsumoto's endless stream of questions that he was sure was meant only to give herself some form of comfort.

She grimaced, and peered under his shirt. With a frown, she said 'I don't have enough supplies to clean all that off. And anyway, I'm not undressing you.'

Ukitake sent her a stern glare as he knelt down. 'Give me what you have,' he instructed the blond girl, the usual cheery undercurrent to his words was lost. Ichigo watched mutely as the man brushed his long hair aside, pushing his sleeves up to the elbows and rolled the slightly elastic material of Toshiro's turtleneck up. The two held gazes for several seconds, before Toshiro's eyes narrowed and he obstinately looked away. He couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion that had flooded those eyes for just that split second, but he could tell the hurt that the older man was feeling from the way his back hunched and his posture sagged.

Ukitake placed two fingers on the hard floor, smearing the blood that had been spilt. He placed them gently on the ugly black marks, muttering quietly, 'blood to satisfy.' He traced the lines of ink, periodically withdrawing to take more of the thick red fluid that was pooling in abundance on the floor.

Ichigo shuddered to think that Ukitake was using Toshiro's own blood to clean the runes off.

Once he was done, he looked up from the unsteady rise and fall of the boy's ribcage, turning expectantly to Matsumoto. The girl handed him a bright pink bottle labelled _nail polish remover_. With slight apprehension, he opened the rhinestone studded cover and trickled a small amount onto his right hand. Ukitake paused once again, whispering, 'alcohol to purify.'

The clear liquid joined the mess that was an awful mixture of black and red splashed distastefully across the unhealthily pallid skin.

As Ukitake rubbed generous amounts of what barely passed as alcohol onto the black marks, Ichigo observed his grim expression. What could it be - sadness? Guilt? The droop in his facial features was pronounced. The white haired man paused once more, this time receiving a clear bottle from Matsumoto's purse. _Cuticle oil_?

He didn't know that such essential items of the world of magic could be found practically anywhere, much less all contained within a single manicure kit.

Ichigo wondered if all Hunters, including the crazy scientist man with the blue hair, carried with them a manicure kit. He did have some magnificently long nails.

He supposed it had to be easier than carrying a full bottle of vodka and a litre of canola oil wherever you went.

Ukitake seemed to be done with the procedure; he sat back on his heels for a moment before rising to his feet. 'Rangiku, take Hitsugaya-kun. We're going to see Unohana. Ichigo-kun, you can tell me everything on the way there.'

'Um, actually, Ukitake-san...' he wasn't surprised at how deflated his faltering voice sounded. 'They've got all our stuff confiscated,' he gestured vaguely in the direction of the front desk.

'Ah,' the man stopped short. 'We'll get them back,' he assured Ichigo as he marched assertively down the corridor.

Ichigo exchanged glances with Matsumoto, breaking the silence that had settled between the acquaintances. 'Should we, uh, move him?'

'I'm not dead yet, y'know,' for the first time in what seemed forever, Ichigo heard Hitsugaya speak.

'Oh, really?'

He raised one arm in an effort to cover himself up, tugging with little success at the hem of his shirt. Matsumoto, in response, reprimanded his "disrespectful treatment of fashion", in her exact words. 'You'll get one hell of a disgusting stain on it,' she pointed out.

'I don't care. Help me get my decency back because I, heaven forbid, am not leaving this room half naked.'

'Well, then i suppose we'll just have to leave you here,' Matsumoto suggested brightly, flippantly gathering the spilt contents of her purse.

Raising his hands in defeat, Ichigo decided to leave before things escalated. 'Carry on,' he attempted a placating tone, 'I'll just be looking for my socks.'

'Or you could leave completely naked,' she offered.

'Matsumoto.' The amount of venom loaded into the single word would have put any self-respecting cobra to shame.

'Okay, okay,' the well-endowed girl sighed, gingerly easing Hitsugaya into an upright position before pulling his shirt back over him, a look of pure disgust plastered to her face. 'You'll be throwing that shirt away though. No amount of washing is going to get that mess out of it.'

'I've heard that one before,' he sighed, feeling the weight of his tiredness compound. Matsumoto was squatting down, back turned towards him. Realising the necessity, Hitsugaya reluctantly raised himself up, draping his good arm over the taller girl's shoulder and around her neck. He felt her arms wind behind his knees as she stood to pull him into a piggy-back carry, particularly aware that she was careful not to touch his left arm, which hung uselessly by his side.

'Just so you know,' Hitsugaya informed Matsumoto in between yawns, 'the ugly stain on the front of my shirt is probably busy transferring itself to the back of your shirt.'

/

Ukitake's small car came to a rest outside a large white building. The sun was high in the sky, and Toshiro had spent the entire morning sleeping in the back seat while they sped from highway to highway. The plastic sheet that was spread over the seat was crumpled and stained with the hideous concoction of rune ink - Matsumoto was still visibly upset about her shirt. She was sitting uncomfortably on the edge of her seat, periodically twisting around to inspect the damage that had been done. The wound Kurotsuchi had inflicted on Toshiro was still, very disturbingly, bleeding and Ichigo wasn't at all surprised at the boy's fatigue.

Ichigo's throat was dry from recounting the night's events to Ukitake throughout the journey, and he could have sworn that Ukitake's frown had deepened - some of those worry lines might as well have been permanent.

As Matsumoto shook Toshiro awake, Ichigo asked, 'if we were just going to a hospital, shouldn't we have gone to a nearer one?'

Ukitake sighed. 'This is where it all began, so I suppose this is where we should try to put an end to it.'

_Where what all began? _

He swallowed his questions and followed the man into the lobby. They stopped briefly at the reception counter, where Ichigo caught a brief flash of the same black and silver card he'd seen Toshiro use at the library, and proceeded wordlessly to the spotless lift lobby.

With a quiet _ding_, the pristine doors slid open, a small green triangle that pointed upwards lit up. Everything was clean, everything was white. Any sound was quiet, as if the slightest noise would shatter the building. Ichigo shrank to a corner of the elevator; at the touch of Ukitake's fingers, the fourth button from the bottom lit up a bright red with a soft _beep_, and the only thing that rose to Ichigo's mind was the bloodstained floor of the Government's holding cell.

The familiar sensation of his stomach dropping away as the elevator moved was brief. It came seamlessly to a stop, the doors opening so silently that Ichigo wondered if a blind man could navigate the place alone.

Their pace was brusque, the sounds of their footsteps seemed almost disrespectful. Ukitake stopped at the end of the corridor, where the name plate by the side of the door read _Unohana Retsu_. He knocked patiently, without the urgency that Ichigo knew had to be boiling in him, and waited for the door to open. When it finally did, the lady that stood in the doorway was a strange sight, mainly because of the large braid that hung down her front much like a tie.

'Unohana-san,' Ukitake greeted. He breathed a sigh of relief before motioning at Matsumoto and Ichigo to follow him. The girl walked in, as if she had visited before, walking straight to the large white bed that lay against the window and carefully set her dirty and tired burden down on it. Once again, she was extremely careful not to even move Toshiro's left arm from where he had curled it protectively to his chest.

The lady passed Matsumoto a sheet of paper and pen, and Ukitake paled visibly. Ichigo wondered if he was the only one who was absolutely clueless.

'What's going on?' he asked as Unohana lead Matsumoto to the desk.

Ukitake sighed. 'Just the administrative process. Generally, every Hunter has blood withdrawn and kept for autologous transfusion, in case of times like this, but according to medical regulations, Hitsugaya-kun doesn't have enough body mass for the procedure. The closest match in terms of blood type, allergies, and DNA is Rangiku-san. As you might have realised, they're the only Hunters who don't go solo. Right now, she's just authorising the donation of one of her personal packets.'

Matsumoto joined Ichigo where he leaned awkwardly against the wall as Unohana drew a (white, Ichigo noted) curtain around the bed. Ukitake sank heavily into a chair as foreign sounds filled the air, battling the humming of the air conditioner for attention. The rustling of plastic, of cloth; the gentle clinking of metal on metal, metal on plastic. The bubbling of the electric kettle, the sighing of dropper bottles foaming slightly at the tip; the squeaking of wheels, of mechanic joints.

The swish of the curtain and the clacking of the curtain hooks indicated the end of the wait. Hitsugaya was sitting up, looking distinctly healthier than before. Any evidence of the injury was buried under a clean cloth dressing, and his left arm was suspended in a sling. Hanging on the pole by the bed was a plastic packet with multiple labels and stickers all over it, a thin plastic tube running the red substance into his right forearm, just under the elbow. He looked extremely childish, sipping at a mug of tea with his legs swinging at the side of the bed, his socked feet nowhere near touching the vinyl flooring, but Ichigo went with his better judgment and said nothing.

'Tell me,' the gentle voice of Unohana had hardened considerably, 'what happened to the Amulet of Nara.'

'I knew it,' Hitsugaya murmured into his tea.

'I'm sorry,' Ukitake whispered, not quite looking at the boy he was speaking to.

'Someone explain everything!' exclaimed Ichigo, to which Matsumoto only laughed.

'You know about the eight gems of Urahara Kisuke, yes?' Matsumoto began. She continued when Ichigo nodded. 'Legend has it that if the seven coloured gems are arranged in a hepetagon around the clear one - the Hogyoku - they will yield immense power to the person at the centre. It's like a fairy ring. The person in possession of the Hogyoku will receive power to destroy the world if they so wished.'

'So what does this have to do with whatever's happening now?'

Unohana picked the explanation up. 'Since decades ago, it has been well known that the leader of the magicians, Aizen Sosuke, holds the Hogyoku. Six of the seven remaining gems were under Governmental protection in a vault, but the Amulet of Nara was missing. The Government knew that if the magicians got their hands on the missing amulet, there was nothing standing in their way from breaking into the vault for the other six. The magicians knew that if the Government discovered the last gem, nothing would stop them from pulling out all stops to take their leader's life. So a race for the treasure began, nearly a hundred years ago.'

'Six months ago, there was an attack in Gifu. Fire spread, and the town was almost destroyed. The lives of one of our official's family were taken.' Ukitake took a deep breath before continuing. 'I was sent to take care of the issue, and managed to kill the demon and magician responsible. When the magician fell, he began to choke and splutter, and the Amulet of Nara fell from his mouth. My guess is that he found it that evening and swallowed it for safekeeping. It was pure dumb luck that it happened, and I realised we needed safer places that just a vault.'

Ichigo frowned. _Six months ago. It's not a long time, but I've figure things out_. The cold, biting words of Hitsugaya from the previous night at Nagoya Library were strangely clear.

'I was treading a thin line. I couldn't let either party know that the Amulet of Nara was no longer missing.'

There was a clink of ceramic meeting the hard table surface; Hitsugaya looked Ukitake in the eye. 'Six months ago, just days before my graduation from the Academy.'

Ichigo felt his breath catch in his throat.

'I was called to this very room by Ukitake-san. I was told that the Research and Development Bureau had, under top-secret conditions, come up with a prototype for a surgically embedded tracker for Hunters' safety. Ukitake-san and Unohana-san requested that I test it out for them. If I recall correctly, I was told that I should "feel honoured" for being able to assist in the research process.'

_Holy shit._

'Within hours, the tracker was embedded in my left upper arm. Medical records say I was operated on by the leading doctor of the magic-wielding society, Unohana Retsu, for a sparring injury.'

'When did you...' Ukitake breathed, his voice strained.

'You and Unohana-san buried no tracker device in my arm; it was something much more precious. You, Ukitake-san, are not being protective of my wellbeing because you doubt my fighting capabilities, nor because of my youth. There was always the possibility of my getting injured in the left arm, and you didn't want the Amulet of Nara to be revealed by something as frivolous as a battle accident. So you kept me by the sidelines, on surveillance missions. Most mentors bring their students to an attack or investigation within ten weeks of their graduation. You took Matsumoto, but you didn't take me. You don't need to be a genius to smell a rat.'

'I'm sorry,' Ukitake apologised again. 'I thought that if we hid the truth from everyone-'

'You thought what?' Hitsugaya looked livid, dark circles under his eyes resembling bruises. Ichigo realised that he probably had his own set of those. 'That everything would be okay? That it would all soon blow over? Before the operation six months ago, you told me that it "wasn't going to hurt". You have no idea how much it _hurts_ now on _so many_ different levels, in places that no amount of morphine can even begin to help.'

His right fist curled and loosened repeatedly, leaving the blanket under it creased, but his left remained slack. Ukitake looked absolutely defeated, and Ichigo was at a complete loss as to who he was supposed to be siding with. The man bowed his head of unkempt white hair.

'I'm-'

'Don't bother apologising,' Hitsugaya cut him off. 'Now, the Government has all seven of the coloured gems, and we don't know how noble their intentions are. All hell is going to break loose, so what's your move?'

* * *

_end_

* * *

_AN: _

_For everyone's benefit, I'll be explaining what I know about the medical saga above. Autologous transfusion is the transfusion of your own blood into your own system which was previously withdrawn and stored in a blood bank. Also, to withdraw enough blood to be useful, without harming the donor, the donor has to be at least 45kg (100lb) and since Hitsugaya weighs a measly 28kg (62lb) in canon...yes. I hope all is cleared up._

_Do review, they make my day! Favs and alerts are not bad either, but nothing quite matches up to a review!_


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